


Let Out the Summer Weather

by windfallswest



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: Tuvok was sitting in the mess hall, attempting both to eat the purported soup of the day and to review his section's weekly status reports and having little appetite for either. In addition, as was not infrequent, Neelix insisted on attempting to engage him in idle chatter.





	Let Out the Summer Weather

**Author's Note:**

> So, everything in Tuvok's personal timeline says he should have gone into Pon Farr in season 5, not season 7. Much farther into the Delta Quadrant, still forty years from home—sure, you could still use the holodeck; but this is more fun.
> 
> Title chosen at semi-random from Longfellow, because it was closest.

Tuvok was sitting in the mess hall, attempting both to eat the purported soup of the day and to review his section's weekly status reports and having little appetite for either. In addition, as was not infrequent, Neelix insisted on attempting to engage him in idle chatter. It was extremely aggravating. If he did not escape soon, Tuvok thought, he would have no recourse but to crush his throat.

Tuvok opened his mouth and barely stopped himself from making an ill-thought remark. He stood hurriedly and excused himself, leaving Neelix flummoxed behind him. _Good._

This was not the first time he had had to consciously check himself recently. Over the past few days, he had become increasingly agitated. The sensation was, if not familiar, at least recognisable by virtue of past experience.

In the corridor, Tuvok tapped his commbadge, before he had a chance to think better of it. Besides, he wanted as much of his presence of mind as was to be had about him for this conversation.

"Tuvok to Ensign Kim."

"Kim here."

Tuvok pursed his lips and paused to gather his thoughts before replying. "I wonder if I might have a word with you."

"Sure thing, sir."

"Good. Please come to my quarters at 1900 hours." Squarely in the gap between the end of their alpha shift bridge duty and the beginning of Harry's gamma shift watch.

There was a pause at the unusual request, then, "I'll see you there. Kim out."

 

Tuvok was unprepared for the rush of basal urges he experienced when he opened his door to admit Harry Kim. The mere scent of him was enough to scatter the mental faculties Tuvok had spent the past few hours collecting in meditation, with only limited success. _Focus,_ he remonstrated himself.

"Please, come in."

"So, what did you want to talk with me about?" asked Harry, looking around Tuvok's sparely decorated quarters with interest.

"I have a favour to ask of you. Of a rather personal nature." Tuvok hesitated.

"Tuvok, I'd like to consider myself your friend," Harry volunteered earnestly. "Whatever it is, just ask. I promise not to be offended."

"Very well." Tuvok gestured for him to take a seat on one end of the couch; Tuvok settled on the other. This was probably tempting fate. He found, however, that he could not make himself move away. "I am experiencing the early stages of the Pon Farr. As you may well know, _Voyager_ 's predicament presents me with a dilemma, although not a unique one. It has, in fact, happened to me twice before that I was...unable to return to Vulcan."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Why? Or shouldn't I ask?"

"Under the circumstances, it is appropriate for you to know. The first time, I had no choice but to cope using ritual meditation, being incarcerated in solitary confinement."

" _You_ were in _prison_?" Harry interrupted incredulously.

"Suffice it to say that my infiltration of the Maquis is not the only undercover assignment I have undertaken for the Federation."

"Tuvok: galactic man of mystery. I never would have guessed."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "In any event, it was an experiment I would prefer not to repeat. The second time I was cut off from Vulcan, I was able to come to an...understanding with a member of the crew of the starship on which I was posted."

Tuvok refused to drop Harry's gaze. It did not take long; Harry was an intelligent man. The moment he grasped the implication was clearly visible. His pupils dilated, his breathing quickened, and his tongue darted out unconsciously to moisten his lips. Interesting.

"Why—I mean, why me?" Harry asked.

"I could provide you with an extensive list of your recommending virtues, intelligence, courage, and loyalty not least among them; and I would not be exaggerating. But the simple truth is that I am attracted to you. So much so that your presence on the ship would be a distraction from my meditations, were I to choose that method of coping. If circumstances were otherwise, I might still have attempted that course. But, hope as we might, there is no guarantee that we will not still be in the Delta quadrant in another seven years' time. I will not lie to you; those who withstand the Pon Farr are often less among other peoples. They also have access to such medical aids as have been developed. This discipline is at the very limits of my capabilities; I am concerned that it may have been only the urgent necessity that I remain alive to complete my mission which lent me the strength of will to endure the Pon Farr, and that I may fail in attempting to do so again."

Tuvok restrained himself before he began to babble, but was unsuccessful in quelling his nervousness. He did not... _like_ the emotion.

"If I were to say yes," Harry began cautiously, "what would be involved?"

"The mating is mental as well as physical; we would be bonded for the duration. And possibly...after, especially if the arrangement were to continue." Tuvok hurried on, drawing focus from the need to choose his words. "The sexual activity is quite exhausting, though not harmful. But I must warn you that the Pon Farr is a time of illogic and animal sensuality. You have seen its effects on otherwise rational beings: you would be affected similarly. Despite my own needs, I must urge you to consider carefully."

 

Harry considered.

He had, of course, been peripherally aware of Tuvok's attractiveness, but he had automatically packed his married-Vulcan-superior officer in the box labelled _NO_ , along with Captain Janeway and Chakotay. Everyone had a box like that; it was where you put your friend's dad or your sexy aunt or the geophysics instructor at the Academy. He'd been trying to cram Seven of Nine into that box since she'd been deborgified and tripped what was apparently some sort of disturbing primal response with her breasts and her assertiveness. The breasts were still having a hard time fitting, but he was getting there.

And, Harry realised, he'd come to know Tuvok pretty well these past several years. He was a good guy, and well-put-together. And Harry—it wasn't like he had any real commitments, not even back home; not anymore. 

Besides, it was kind of hard not to respond when Tuvok had been looking all this time like he was physically restraining himself from pouncing across the couch and devouring Harry like the last cone of ice-ream on a forty-degree day. Oh, god. Where did a Vulcan learn how to _eyefuck_? Harry licked his lips. It had to've been the tenth time in the last five minutes.

"What—what about your wife?" he said in an effort to recover his own rationality.

"I love my wife and am committed to our marriage. But she will understand. As I will understand if she finds it necessary to undertake similar measures."

"So she knows about the other, um, person."

Tuvok nodded. Was he sweating? _Vulcans don't sweat._ "Yes."

"And there were no lasting repercussions or anything?" Harry winced. He could hear Tom's voice in his ear. _Smooth, Harry, very smooth._ The pause before Tuvok answered stretched for an eternity.

"Circumstances were somewhat different, and no permanent link was formed. Humans are unusually receptive to telepathy, however, and I would not—" Tuvok took a breath. "I would not insult you by asking this of you and then casting you aside, only to face the same problem in another seven years."

"Oh." _Oh._ Harry swallowed, but there was a lump in his throat. "Yes," he said at last, then more firmly: "I'll do it. When do you, um, want me?"

_Right now,_ Tuvok almost looked like he wanted to say.

"The day after tomorrow should be soon enough. I suppose we must also inform the Doctor." He sounded understandably reluctant.

"Tuvok, if you think this isn't going to be all over the ship in half a shift, you haven't been paying very much attention these past five years. Don't you maybe think you'd rather the captain hear about this from, um, us firsthand rather than through the grapevine?"

Tuvok nodded grudgingly. "You undoubtedly have a point. With your permission, I will inform them both tomorrow morning. I suggest that you rest and fortify yourself. The next few days will be taxing; I am honoured that you have chosen to share them with me, Ensign Kim."

The Pon Farr, Harry reminded himself, was a very embarrassing thing for Vulcans. On an impulse, Harry leaned forward and kissed Tuvok on the lips.

"Call me Harry."

"Harry, then," Tuvok looked like he was replying on auto-pilot. Harry couldn't help but smile. "I will see you tomorrow. Rest well."

"You too, Tuvok." 

"I will spend the night in meditation," Tuvok corrected.

Harry smiled, like the sun coming up over Earth's alien fields. "See you, Tuvok."

 

Captain Janeway was looking out the viewport in her ready room, a cup of coffee in her hand, when Tuvok arrived.

"Tuvok," she greeted him. "What's the problem?"

"Captain." Tuvok inclined his head respectfully. "I regret to inform you that I shall shortly be forced to take a leave of absence from my duties."

Janeway frowned. "Are you ill?"

"I assure you, I am in perfect health." He took a deep breath and forestalled Janeway's question with a raised hand. "I am experiencing the early stages of Pon Farr. It should be another day or so before my behaviour is significantly affected. Because you are my captain and my friend, and given our unusual situation, I thought it best to apprise you, tradition to the contrary."

"Thank you, Tuvok," Janeway said after a moment's silence. Sympathy gentled her typically forceful demeanour. "Is there anything we can do to help you?"

"That is the other reason why I felt it necessary to inform you myself. Ensign Kim has agreed to...participate."

" _Participate?_ " Janeway boggled briefly. "You mean, to..." She gestured vaguely with her coffee cup.

"Yes," replied Tuvok, whose meditations the previous night had met with only mixed success.

"Well, I suppose you know what you're doing," Janeway said at last. She sipped her coffee with the air of someone who wished it were something stronger. "I want you both to wear cortical monitors so the Doctor can keep an eye on you."

"It was my intention to visit sickbay when we had finished here," Tuvok assured her.

"Good. Now, I see no reason why you can't continue to perform your duties while you feel able, so long as the Doctor has no serious objections."

 

"I have no objections," the Doctor admitted reluctantly, "but if you require medical assistance at any time, don't hesitate to call. I expect to see Ensign Kim down here as well."

"He will no doubt stop by within the next twenty-four hours," Tuvok replied diplomatically. "Now, if you will excuse me?"

"Of course." The Doctor waved him off cheerily. "Have fun!"

 

That news travelled fast on a starship as small as _Voyager_ was inevitable. So there had never been any real hope of keeping the whole affair, as it were, a secret. Still, Harry was beginning to understand the way Vulcans treated the Pon Farr. This had to be the most incredibly awkward day of his life. The captain, the Doctor. And his eyes kept drifting over to Tuvok at tactical while his brain supplied him with a string of bridge-inappropriate thoughts.

And then there was Tom. Tom Paris slid into the seat across from Harry at lunch. Before Harry had got halfway through _hello_ , Paris was saying, "Tuvok? Really?"

Harry glared at him. "So?"

"So? I just didn't think he was your type, is all. Or was an invitation to a Vulcans sex-marathon just too much for even you to resist?"

"Tuvok is a very attractive man," Harry pointed out, ignoring that last remark.

Tom gave him a Look. It said, _really_ , Harry? Harry's eyes narrowed, but he refused to rise to the bait. "Anyway, when did _you_ start thinking of B'Elanna as more than a colleague? Relationships change. Sometimes, they even need a little push."

Tom looked at him appraisingly over his half-raised mug of coffee. "A little push, huh?"

Harry's glower was particularly ineffective today, apparently.

"Oh, shut up," Harry surrendered at last. Tom laughed, and everything was all right.

That was the _only_ thing that was all right, though: everything went downhill from there. It didn't help at all when Tuvok didn't return to his post after lunch. By the time shift-change rolled around, Harry was frazzled, snappish, horny, jumpy, and not nearly as tired as he should be after pulling double duty. The cortical monitor hummed a constant distraction behind his ear. He hadn't been this wound up since finals his third year at the Academy, when he'd gone a week and a half on about three hours' sleep—it was hard to tell; things were a little blurry there for a while. He'd been hopped up on caffeine and Berellian tulip sticks (which weren't illegal in the same way that alcohol wasn't illegal), finishing his final project for Advanced Warp Geometry.

Harry left the bridge with as much dignity as possible when Golwat came up to relieve him. He could feel sweat standing out on his brow and the back of his neck as he walked down the corridor to Tuvok's quarters.

He stood outside after the door chimed, waiting for a response.

"Tuvok?" he called, feeling almost as awkward as he had being called into Captain Janeway's ready room that morning. "It's me, Harry."

There was no reply, but the door slid open to reveal Tuvok in one of his Vulcan tunics. They stood facing one another, leaned forward with parted lips, but did not touch, mouths moving towards each other and away like the pantomime of a kiss. Harry couldn't have said who broke distance first because before it happened, between one breath and the next, his brain shut off the rest of the way.

Tuvok's hands burned on his skin. He was feverish through two layers of clothes where they pressed together all along the length of their bodies. It was pure luck that they stumbled back through the door and not out into the corridor. Tuvok's hands drifted up to Harry's face, spreading to press the meld points. He might have spoken; his lips left Harry's and he smelt in the hot, damp air the peculiar spices from Tuvok's favourite tea.

There were hands cupping his jaw as his fingers remained splayed in place, then a vertiginous moment of realisation of a curious doubling, halving, merging. Illogical guilt, illogical passion, illogical sympathy, response, action, reaction, caress, embrace. Operating on something more basic than consciousness, hands fumbled with zippers and shirts, seeking skin. Mind to mind, flesh to flesh, heart to heart: one hand pressed briefly high on a pale chest, another slid low over heaving ribs.

Their hands moved with greedy roughness. Tuvok's left hand slid across from Harry's heart and up his neck to tilt his face for another kiss. Their merged minds were barely clinging to a last shred of rationality, just enough to get them backing step by unsteady step through the living area and into Tuvok's bedroom.

Harry's hands were everywhere, _everywhere_ , leading Tuvok to slam him against the wall and do some reciprocal groping. Harry's body arched into the touch, panting into Tuvok's mouth. He propelled them onward, until they stumbled onto Tuvok's bed.

Tuvok rolled onto his back and spread his legs. Harry settled between them, his attempts at getting at Tuvok hampered by Tuvok's slightly more successful efforts at removing the rest of Harry's uniform.

At last, Harry was kneeling naked above him. He pushed Tuvok's hands away impatiently and tore no more gently at Tuvok's clothes. Skin. They needed _skin_. Real contact. Harry paused to kiss Tuvok's knee before climbing back onto the bed and was struck by a sudden image that sent a jolt straight to his cock.

He groped on the bedside table where he knew the bottle would be. Strong arms pulled him down again and brought his face close enough to kiss. They felt with one another each the other's body and thought with one another each the other's thoughts.

Clumsily, Harry's hands worked off the top of the bottle of oil and spilled some on his fingers. Tuvok clutched at him when the first finger slid in, pressing their erections into shocking contact. Harry slid his finger back in and added another. Tuvok's moans were driving him wild, exacerbating the fever in his blood. _This is crazy,_ someone thought, but it was fleeting and lost in the sheer wave of sensation between them. Harry was making some noise of his own, gasps and nonsense; and something definitely came out of his mouth when he pushed into Tuvok.

One thrust and Harry spasmed, almost coming. It was hot, hotter than the impossible heat of Tuvok's tongue on his neck. He thrust again and felt teeth.

Harry moaned and started fucking in earnest. It felt like they'd come with every second, like they'd die if they didn't. He took hold of Tuvok's leaking cock with his slippery hand and jerked him fast and rough.

It didn't take long before Tuvok was coming, Harry's name in their minds and in their joined mouths. The fierce pleasure of his release and the fervent passion in his voice more than the clench of his muscles was what sent Harry over the edge with him.

Harry was still hard when he pulled out. Tuvok rolled over, pinning Harry beneath him. He ran his hands possessively over Harry's chest. Urging his legs wider with one hand, Tuvok dipped the other in the semen on his stomach and pushed two fingers past the muscular resistance and into Harry's ass.

Harry's body pushed back onto the fingers, demanding more. With a noise that was almost a growl, Tuvok spread more semen on his cock and lifted Harry's legs over his shoulders.

When he thrust in, Harry shouted and came dry. Tuvok leaned forward and gripped Harry's hips, thrusting rapidly and deeply, wrapped in willing flesh and eager mind.

Tuvok's rhythm, already erratic, became more so as his tempo sped, climax building at the base of his spine. Harry's hips rocked up to meet his as much as possible, arms and hands splayed out from his body for balance or traction. His erection twitched and started leaking as Tuvok slammed into him again and again and then came.

Time blurred into a broil of sensation. There was no control; there were no questions. There was only the demand.

 

Harry's consciousness started slipping out from the immediacy of the meld before the mating urge had run itself out. _That is Tuvok sucking my cock,_ Harry thought, and realised he thought. The sight made him moan: the dark, smooth body bent over him and Tuvok's lips, god, stretched around his dick.

Awash in rebounding waves of pleasure, Harry lay back and let Tuvok take him. Ten points of pressure at his hips helped ground him in his own body, a splash of pain he was still too hazy to really feel; still, there was an echo in his mind that wasn't a memory, of hard flesh on his tongue and a golden body spread pliant beneath him.

Harry jerked and came, feeling wrung and close to satiated. It was still eminently necessary that they be touching; he could feel the pull like magnetism as Tuvok crawled up his body. Harry could see how this was bonding; he felt tired and comfortable and completely unselfconscious. There was only the thrum of a low, easy desire, like his spine was a plucked string.

Tuvok trailed open-mouthed kisses up Harry's chest to his mouth, deeper and slower there before he braced himself up against Harry's shoulders and thrust. He slid in almost effortlessly, a warm, pleasantly full sensation Harry thought might be still mostly due to altered brain chemistry, unfamiliar molecule chains dancing through his head. Tuvok rocked his hips in a measured tempo, and he shivered at the protracted drag of flesh against flesh.

Looking up into his eyes was like looking into a mirror with another one behind you: he was himself, looking up at Tuvok, whose dark eyes were still wild; and he was Tuvok, seeing Harry in disarray; and Harry, shivering at the sight of his own lips thick and flushed, skin bruised, hair in his eyes; and Tuvok, feeling his own thrusts deep inside; and Harry, pressing down harder with brown fingers to feel their strength...

Harry gasped and bent one knee so Tuvok could drive in deeper. His strokes were long and smooth; Harry's entire body felt like an exposed nerve ending, and Tuvok's movements were caresses into which he leant like a purring cat.

One strong hand maintained pressure on Harry's bent knee; the other was planted by his ear. He'd regained enough of his mind to move in deliberate counterpoint to Tuvok's thrusts. There was no fighting that rhythm, not that Harry could, not that it could be the _wrong_ rhythm, coming from both of them, still joined. Their eyes locked, and he thought he saw Tuvok in there, just before he came.

Harry was vaguely aware that the urge was running itself out. Their frantic pace slowed as even their hormone-driven bodies took longer and longer to recover. Movements became slow and languorous, tenderness where the abandon of unbridled passion had been, like a bonfire burning down to embers. Dozy pauses full of shifting dreams.

Tuvok kissed _differently_ when he was himself; there was no mistaking it. But he was still kissing Harry. They held each other closely; and even though they weren't still melded, Harry knew he was welcome. This was where he belonged now. Him and Tuvok. Comfortable, secure, they drifted at last into sleep.

 

When Harry awoke—naked, sweaty, aching, in somebody else's bed—it should have been awkward. But the first thing he looked to for reassurance was—Tuvok. Whose bed he was in, and whose naked body was stuck to his. _Huh. That's new._

That was the bond; had to be. That was the deal. It was going to take some getting used to.

Blinking his eyes open, Tuvok made a query without words. Harry brushed two fingers over his lips. Muscles all up and down his back complained as he moved his arm.

Tuvok interlaced their fingers, a gesture almost as intimate, and rolled him a quarter turn onto his back, setting off another chorus of twinges from both their abused bodies. Neither of them was going to be able to get it up for any action below their hands for about a month. Or get up out of bed, for that matter.

With a last, lingering caress, Harry felt Tuvok's fingers slip through his own as he slipped out of bed. The sudden separation came as an actual physical shock. Mentally, too, although Harry caught a little of his intentions filtering back though.

Harry had the good grace to blush as he watched Tuvok make his way to the bathroom, caked in crusted splotches of come. The subtle mottling on his dark skin might have been bruises or just the low light, but he was definitely walking a little bow-legged.

Tuvok emerged a few moments later with a basin of water and several clean cloths. Without saying a word, he set the basin on the bedside table and sat down next to Harry, dipping one of the cloths in the water.

"You don't have to do that." Harry's voice came out as a croak.

Tuvok didn't hesitate; the first touch of cool water on his skin was heavenly. "It is customary." His voice sounded pretty rough, too.

"Fine, but I'm doing you next," Harry persisted.

Methodically, Tuvok cleaned away the stickiness of sweat and semen from his skin. Tuvok's movements were ritualistic, but it wasn't a ritual that put distance between them when he could still feel Tuvok's mind. It worked like a moving meditation; Harry could sense him balancing his composure to accommodate this new intimacy while putting away the ferocious emotions that had overtaken them both.

When it was his turn, Harry firmly took the bowl and refilled it. He still ached, but it felt so much better to be clean. The memory of Tuvok's gentle hands coexisted with the memory of his hot touch, counterbalancing and leaving him surprisingly settled.

Cleansing Tuvok in turn, touching him everywhere, was some of the familiarisation they'd skipped plunging directly into to Pon Farr. It was deliberate, and surprisingly caring. There were a certain number of touch taboos among Vulcans; Harry supposed they took some effort to overcome. Like everything else Vulcans did, there was a logical reason for it.

It certainly brought the reality home, and better here and now, before they had to face the gauntlet of public corridors and turbo-lifts between here and sickbay. To look into Tuvok's eyes and have him look back, to touch him, to feel his mind.

Real was the word. _Really_ real.

Harry jumped a little when Tuvok's fingers brushed his. The sense of his mind was much stronger when they touched. Through it, he felt fondness and confidence underlain with a mixture of satisfaction and relief. He could almost feel Tuvok putting his emotions away, but he had chosen to share _this_.

"I would prefer to meditate before reporting to sickbay. Would you care to sit with me?" Tuvok offered.

Harry traced Tuvok's fingers with his own, amazed at his continued welcome. "I think I'd like that a lot."


End file.
